Story continues from part two Part Three Lovely blue skys and the sounds of birds and wind greeted her eyes as she opened them. She blinked a moment before she realized she was still watching a fantasy hatched from her own mind. “Trixxie. What time is it?” she moaned, finding her body unbound and finally struggling into what felt like a sitting position. <: it is currently 08:04:27 hours T-3. Subliminal training exercise complete. I hope to interact with you again soon T-3. :> replied the computer smoothly. ...

A special thanks goes to Ultraprene for contributing several ideas to this story. Part 1: Las Vegas Here in the bright lights of Sin City, dreams are made, deals are struck, and fortunes are made and lost. A thousand things can and do happen here every day. Most of it goes unnoticed by the community at large. There are more important things, like making money, playing of the bills, and trying to find a place to park your car. ...

continued from part one Part 2: Memories. Her husband dying. The bill collectors. Bankruptcy. The government seizing her house and almost everything she owned. Homeless, she wandered the streets for many cold and miserable nights. The only shelter she knew had been the singles bar. Then he had walked in through the door… Rose smiled softly at the memory of first meeting that young man, seeing him come through that door. In him she saw her escape from the cold, homeless nights and loneliness. She wasn’t aware of smiling. She was asleep, despite the fact that she was hanging upside down in a cave, bound nose to toe in white, tight, and warm silk. Considering her predicament, it was a wonder that she could sleep at all. ...

This story is written in the style of Filador50’s classic story, the sentence. Just a little warning, this story does not end happily. The two of us stood side by side. Well, we were ten feet apart, both housed in tall steel cages, but at least we were close to each other. The room was silent. In front of us was a panel of judges. We had been brought down into this complex two days ago, captured after my sister had made one too many phone calls from one building. After tracing the calls, agents had burst in on us. We were arrested and taken into custody. ...

Garden Shed Adventure by Inferno of the Soul Sarah’s’ life had finally had gone her way. She landed a great job at a major company and finally been able to move out of her parents home. She had just finished unpacking all of her of things and was considering living out one of her fantasies. She had been into bondage for about 3 years but couldn’t really do anything too risky and now she could play and add the thrill of being seen in bondage. ...

New Tricks for an Old Dog by Marcia It is often said that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. How wrong this saying is because, despite my being classified as an old dog (just turned 58 thank you very much) by several agencies and institutions, I’ve learned several new tricks these past two years and I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time. Last winter we had we had a fairly severe snowstorm that dumped almost 20” and crippled most of our highways and side streets. The plows in our community did not come through our neighborhood for two days and as a result we found ourselves cooped up with nothing more to do than watch TV, read, sew and cook, etc. ...

Oops by jayjaybound I had been into bondage for as long as I could remember, and soon I realized that being dressed in feminine clothes just made it even better. Once I moved into the dorms at Santa Clara University it was much harder to do. Having a suburban for a car does have some advantages however. Right after I had thought of this I started planning. I was parked in a lot that wasn’t that well lit, so the only part of the car that was visible was the front two seats. The back windows were darkly tinted so no one would be able to see me back there unless they looked straight in to try to see me. I decided that to make this a bit more fun I would leave a note saying what I was doing and leave it at a home that was under construction across the street. I figured that it would be safe since no one would be there until morning and by then I would be long gone, yet just knowing that it was there would make it more fun. The note was: For anyone who might find this, My name is Jason, and if you look in the suburban in the lot across the street you will find me bound and waiting for you to use me however you want. The back door will be unlocked, but I will only be there for 2 hours. If you find me I am your slave, and since you have this signed contract, there is nothing I can do during or afterwards. Have fun. Cockslut ...

When I was in High School, I was a goddess. Men wanted me, women wanted me, and the female teachers wanted to be me. But in the last seven years, I’ve spent every Valentine’s Day alone. Sure I’ve had my share of boyfriends and even a few girlfriends. But they always seem to desert me at the start of February. I’m 5’5”, 109 lbs., 34c natural with pierced nipples. I have long sunflower blonde hair that comes down to the middle of my back. I also have piercings in my bellybutton, two labia piercings and a vertical clit hood ring. ...

The Purgation Experiment, or Making a Vice of Necessity By Professor Challenger Well, I’ve come to that time of life whereat my doctor advises it’s time to have a “routine” colonoscopy. It’s not that the procedure itself is so bad—hereabouts they basically do it under anesthesia, so all one has to deal with there is the lingering grogginess afterward. No, the worst part is definitely the “preparation”—meaning, in this case, that the night before the procedure, you are required to take a purgative that cleans out your bowels entirely. I had the prescription for the laxative solution: 4 liters worth (egad!) that had to be taken eight ounces at a time every 10-15 minutes starting at 5PM until either what was evacuated was clear, or until you had taken all of it. This works out to sixteen eight-ounce doses in approximately four hours. One knew that the laxative wasn’t going to be tasty: the instructions suggested that it was “more palatable” well chilled. So it was going to be an ordeal. It was then that my perverted and masochistic mind began thinking, “Well—if it’s going to be an ordeal, why not make it as much of a fun ordeal as possible—making a vice of necessity, so to speak?” ...

The Table Tied Mistake by Johan Tha story follows! let me know what you think please! Hello! My name is Johan and I am a 28 year old man from a small town in Sweden. I weight 78 kilos and I am 1.83 cm tall. I have been into self bondage since I was 15 and have been a true visitor to Gromet?s sight for many years. I like reading all the great stories that has been written through the years, and here in Sweden it’s hard to find a Mistress so many of them has inspired me to many hours of self bondage. About a half year a go I was on the move to a new apartment, and I had been planning a longtime self bondage adventure before I left the apartment for the last time. ...

continues from another taxing day Saturday, April 12th, 2003, Saturday, April10th, 2004, and Saturday, April 9th, 2005 have something in common. They are the last Saturday before the income tax filing deadline of April 15th. My husband George is a procrastinator, and always waits until the last weekend to prepare his tax return. We are both self-employed professionals, and so we file separately. (My tax return had already gone out in the mail). ...

Diane’s Tale by Rbbral Note: I while ago I went to see the movie “Demonlover”. It was a cautionary tale about a woman involved in corporate espionage, who gets in way over her head. I would recommend it to any in the pervy community, despite the fact that much of what went on was not “consensual”. The lead was played by the cool but sensually stunning Connie Nielson, and as Diane she gets involved with the internet, Japanese anime and unwittingly an interactive SM site. The film has a truly haunting ending with Diane in some serious trouble (it was a French movie, so no happy Hollywood ending). Throughout the movie she had sought power and at the end she is a powerless pawn, to be played with, possibly for the rest of her life or until they tire of her, by forces well beyond her imagination. As is often the case it got me to thinking about what would have happened to Diane and, as I did after I watched another great, but somewhat strange French movie, “The Piano Teacher” (with the equally sublime and gifted Isabelle Huppert) I decided to stretch my fantasies and write my own sequel, just for the fun of it. For Diane’s story I have written it through her eyes. The first part is a synopsis of the movie, and if you haven’t seen it and don’t want to spoil your viewing then ignore the first part of this! ...

A Star Is Born by Rbbral Chapter One “You’re not much of a cat burglar are you?” The culprit swung round at hearing the voice and took a breath. “No, I suppose not. Look….it’s my first time….I’m desperate. I need $3,000 for my tuition fees and accommodation and well….I had a lot of expenses. There is no way I could make it so fast….legitimately so…..” “So you decided to break in to my house and steal it, is that it? Nice big house, lots of land, no security, right? But you didn’t see my cameras did you, or the sensors.” He held up two tapes. ...

Side One I enter the room where you are. As I close the door I look up, and lose my poise, even my breath at the sight of you. You are sitting on the padded ottoman like you are on a throne, and even the way you carry yourself makes me weak in the knees. You wear that tight corset, heels, and jewelry. Oh, that sweet glint of jewelry between your spread legs. I want. It makes my mouth dry to think of that corset squeezing your breasts; I envy it, want to rip it off you and use my mouth instead. But at the same time, I want to just fall down and worship at your feet. Fortunately for my sanity, the decision isn’t mine to make. You’ve dressed me in little but chains tonight, decorative ones draped across my breasts and hips, and pretty but very functional ones around my wrists and ankles. They jingle softly as I walk across the floor to you, my hair braided up and out of my face, trailing down my back. I kneel in front of you between your parted legs. So close . . . . You pet my hair, tell me I’m a good girl, and then order me to go back over to the door again. “Yes, Mistress Faith,” I say as I cock my head questioningly, but rise and obey. I walk slowly to the door and turn around, then look into your eyes and wait for instructions. “Crawl to me, tart.” My obedience is instant; I drop to my knees, though I’m not sure how much of it is because you just melted the bones right out of my legs. I’m gasping for breath before my hands hit the floor. It’s funny how a few simple words can overwhelm me with lust and love and longing. So I look up at you as I crawl, slowly, hips swaying, my chains swinging as they hang from my body. One chain on each side is draped so that it brushes across my nipple with each swing, and the feel of it is about to drive me wild. But the look in your eyes is so approving, it drives me more. Having reached your feet in those lovely high heels, I stop and sit back with my knees precisely six inches apart and the toes of my right foot settled neatly beside the left, just touching. I want so much to touch you, and most times I’d do that, rub my cheek against your thigh just to feel it, or reach down and stroke the skin of your foot between the straps on your shoes. But we are obviously in formal play tonight. Tonight is for ‘yes Ma’am,’ and ’no, Mistress Faith,’ and not taking unauthorized liberties. Authorized ones, though . . . . On my knees in front of you, looking up, smiling, eyes pleading, I beg permission: “Please Mistress Faith, may I touch you?” Your eyes dance, and I know you want to say yes. But you make a show of thinking about it first. “Yes, pet, you may kiss the inside of each thigh once. Quickly. No tongue.” I am a little disappointed, I want so much more. But leaning forward to kiss each thigh carefully is good, feels so good, smells so good. And there is the thrill of you denying me as well. I find it incredibly erotic to have you so much in control of our activities. “Mmm, nice. Now stand and turn your back to me, tartlet.” “Yes Mistress Faith,” I say as I turn. You move my hands where you want them, put my wrists down together and I hear a click, and then another, as you link the rings in my chain wrist cuffs. You turn me around again, directing me with your hands rather than words, and direct me down to my knees again, in close, between your legs. You move a foot to nudge my knees wide apart. I’m quiet, working hard to calm my breathing. “Up,” you say, motioning that I should be up on my knees rather than sitting back on my heels. I quickly comply; you pull a blindfold from behind your back, and the surprise makes me flinch. You tie it around my head, making sure the pads over the eyes are positioned to keep my eyes securely closed, tying it securely. I take deep breaths, breathing out through my nose, luxuriating in the feel of your body brushing against mine as you move. You slide a finger against my lower lips, latex slick and cool against my skin, and I shiver with pleasure. I try not to move against your hand, you haven’t given me permission, and in this formal play mood I know it’s not allowed. You tease at my body, drawing attention to how wet I am. I feel a second finger slide into me; your body brushes against mine and the chains on my body sway against my skin. You withdraw your fingers and I stifle a whimper at losing your touch; then your hand presses down on my shoulder so that I am forced to sit back on my heels. I am surprised to encounter an obstacle there, a stiff presence against my sex. Your hands are still pushing me down, so I wriggle to get the fit right and impale myself on it. It’s big; it fills me, warming to my body heat, a small nub rubbing against my clit. “Good girl,” you say, soft and low. “That’s my good girl.” I can hear the smile in your voice. Suddenly you grab my hair and pull me off balance, forward, into you. You are much closer than my memory says you should be; you’ve moved your seat closer to me. You use the braid to direct my face; off balance from my hands being restrained, I fall into you, bumping your jewelry with my upper lip. “Now you may touch me, tartlet. Now you may taste.” Ahh . . . finally, finally. I place a gentle kiss on your ring, then softly lick around the outside edges of you, feeling my way, exploring in my dark. I suck you into my mouth and listen to your gasps and sighs. I nearly scream in frustration at not being able to hold onto your thighs, dig my nails in, penetrate you. I use my tongue to slide inside you, savoring the taste of you in my mouth. You have such a soft and delicate flavor. I’m fierce with my mouth against you, pressing and licking. I suck you into my mouth, hard, playing my tongue over your most sensitive places, feeling your body jump against my mouth. And every move I make, I’m rubbed by the dildo inside me. I suck you gently, licking you again and again and again, sucking your clit into my mouth and I can’t resist rubbing myself against the dildo for stimulation. You are moving against my face, driving me wild with lust, and just as you push over the edge you pull my hair hard, arching as your body pulses around my invading tongue and then I am coming too as you scream once and then call my name, over and over. . . . Side Two As I prepare myself mentally for carrying out the special plan I’ve devised for tonight, I muse that the hand holding the leash is just as captive as the neck encircled by the collar. Tonight’s game . . . I love it of course, love putting my beloved through her paces, but I do it because she needs it. I check to see that I’m her Mistress in high style tonight, my hair is perfect, my corset is properly laced, and my strappy high-heeled shoes are buckled around my ankles. Ah, yes, she’s going to love that Brazilian wax I had done earlier. It shows off my new ring beautifully; I’d bet anything that I’ll have to let her get one, too, or she’ll pout. I can never resist her when she pouts. She’ll be along any second now; she’s always punctual. Showtime. She walks into the room softly, demurely. She’s so soft and feminine, so beautiful; my chains dimple her white skin, and she takes my breath away. I had intended . . . but I can’t speak as she walks, swaying, across the floor. The thought that my incapacity will easily pass for some Mistress whim makes me almost smile, restoring a little bit of control. And then she gracefully kneels between my parted knees. My control might slip again, if it were not so obvious that she can hardly decide whether to look at my face or between my legs. I allow myself to stroke her hair a few times; I love her hair, ember red, soft like everything about her is soft. “Good girl.” Closing my eyes and taking one deep breath of the scent of her hair, I order her to return to the door. She doesn’t know what she’s done wrong, but she’s not afraid, she trusts me. She hasn’t done anything wrong; she seldom does. I just want to watch her walk away. But now a little something for her . . . . “Crawl to me, tart.” Oh, she’s perfect, on her knees almost instantly. She responds so well to my voice that I have to be careful. If I’m careless, I can hurt her feelings, make her question the quality of her service, and that is never what I want. She crawls toward me, which of itself does not excite me, but the chains brushing lightly against her nipples are another story. She has the loveliest breasts, with large, ripe raspberry nipples; the cool chains and her anticipation have made them stand out, plump and erect. She looks up at me, and I’m sure she can see how much I want her. She reaches my feet and stops. As much as I want her to rub her face on my thigh with the affection we both love, I can’t let her; we both need a little formality now and then. It keeps things . . . proper. And in the end, it makes her scream. She knows that she is not permitted to touch Me without permission, so she begs it most prettily: “Please Mistress Faith, may I touch you?” How could I possibly say no to her? She’s irresistible. I can’t imagine anyone denying her anything. Such a sweet, obedient pet deserves abundant generosity . . . but not immediate gratification. “Yes, pet, you may kiss the inside of each thigh once. Quickly. No tongue.” Her face falls just a little. She’s disappointed, but too good a submissive to show it. I can see it only because I know her well. I know what she wants; it’s obvious in the tension in her face as she leans forward to obey. Her lips linger on my skin as she takes a deep breath with each kiss. She thinks I don’t notice, thinks that maybe she is taking a slight liberty by lingering for a second or two, but I want her to breathe me and want me! I want her humming with desire. “Mmm, nice. Now stand and turn your back to me, tartlet.” “Yes Mistress Faith,” she says, with a catch in her voice. She has no idea what I’m about to do. I link her cuffed wrists together behind her back, directing her movements until she is kneeling at my feet, legs spread widely. She doesn’t make any noise, but her breathing is quick and shallow. Oh, she’s making me crazy. I want to fall on her and ravish her, pull her to me with those pretty chains, consume her with kisses and take her right there on the floor . . . but tonight I’m her imperious Mistress Faith, not her unrestrained were-panther. “Up.” She rises to her knees. It’s amazing how she knows what I want when I say so little. I don’t think I could do that. I savor the little flinch of surprise she makes when she sees the blindfold. I step behind her and place it over her eyes, leaning against her a little. As I secure it, her breathing quickens. She doesn’t quite move, but when I touch her, she presses against me almost imperceptibly. This is going to be fun. Settling to my knees, I quietly slip my right hand into a black latex glove and place the left on her hip. And then I touch her how I have longed to touch her since I saw her walk through the door. I run one finger between her legs, between those irresistibly slick, hot lips. God, shes so wet, almost dripping. I want to bury my face in her, taste her, drink her . . ...

First Meeting by MrWizard Author Email: [email protected] You look into my eyes as I slowly walk around you.. Its our first meeting and you are concerned on the impression. I run my hands around your body, feeling it.. teasing the edges.. You stand perfectly still. Hummm I say. The first thing we will do is get you more properly attired. ….. coming in from the street you’ve just warn your normal clothes.. In Texas thats blue jeans and a shirt. ...

Michelle 2: Learning the Ropes First, let me tell you a bit about myself: At school, I was always keen on sports, loving gymnastics best of all; I joined the Scouts rather than the Girl Guides because they did more exciting things. Boys were just other people of my age who got to do the more exciting things. Then my body started to change. I became too curvy to be amongst the best at gymnastics, so I changed to yoga to keep myself supple, and aerobics to keep myself fit. And I realised that men were much more interesting and even had their uses. ...

Learning The Ropes by Michelle First, let me tell you a bit about myself: At school, I was always keen on sports, loving gymnastics best of all; I joined the Scouts rather than the Girl Guides because they did more exciting things. Boys were just other people of my age who got to do the more exciting things. Then my body started to change. I became too curvy to be amongst the best at gymnastics, so I changed to yoga to keep myself supple, and aerobics to keep myself fit. And I realised that men were much more interesting and even had their uses. ...

New Tricks for an Old Dog by Marcia It is often said that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. How wrong this saying is because, despite my being classified as an old dog (just turned 58 thank you very much) by several agencies and institutions, I’ve learned several new tricks these past two years and I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time. Last winter we had we had a fairly severe snowstorm that dumped almost 20” and crippled most of our highways and side streets. The plows in our community did not come through our neighborhood for two days and as a result we found ourselves cooped up with nothing more to do than watch TV, read, sew and cook, etc. ...

“A prisoner transfer?” Officer Rebecca Stillwater was shocked. “I’ve never done a transfer before. Not solo, anyway.” “Oh, I know that,” replied Captain Giles. “But I think you can handle it. Besides, this prisoner is one I know you’ll take special care to deliver.” With a smile, he handed Rebecca a thick file. Printed atop the front was the name Jennifer Stark. At the sight of the name, Rebecca smiled. Stark had been her toughest arrest yet. A burglar who didn’t mind having some fun with anyone unfortunate enough to be present when she broke into a home. Assuming, that is, that the unlucky one was a woman. At the time of her arrest, it was figured she’d robbed 32 homes and raped 17 women. ...

Packaged Story Contest 2005 Entrant When I opened the front door of my house after another long day at work, I was greeted by my best friend Joyce, dressed in a rather stimulating, delightfully translucent negligee. I set my laptop down by the door, gave her a big hug, and cemented my lips to hers for a luscious, deep kiss. The kiss lasted for a full minute, but I was delirious with lust for my gorgeous roommate after about half a second as she plunged her hot tongue into my open mouth. Her power to make me horny with a kiss or even just a whisper never ceased to amaze me. ...